


Aware

by delighted



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Danny's wonderful, First Kiss, Introspection, M/M, Self-Discovery, Self-Doubt, amazing first kisses, season eight related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 17:18:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13276188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delighted/pseuds/delighted
Summary: Steve’s always had feelings for Danny. He’s just always been able to justify them. Until he can’t. And then he’s a fucking mess because he’s pretty sure he’s straight. So, how can he be in love with his partner?





	Aware

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trinipedia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trinipedia/gifts).



> I am getting caught up with the show, I promise. And working on some episode coda/extra scenes stuff.... But in the meantime, this was a comfort fic I wrote for trinipedia, and honestly, it wasn’t a story I’d seen myself writing, but she wanted it, and I adore her, so I said “yes.” And then... I fell in love with it.
> 
> **Just a little note** , because I know this kind of story isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, so if you know you’re not comfortable with it, maybe give this one a miss. If you’re not sure, but you usually like my writing, you might be okay, but, please, know your preferences and read accordingly.

Steve isn’t really sure when he first started to be aware that his feelings for his partner were more than platonic. Probably it was a gradual seeping sense of something vague and unsettled in his belly that took far too long to reach his mind. Which you might have expected would have helped ease the shock and stress of it, when it did finally became utterly clear.

Unfortunately, you’d be wrong.

It’s not like Steve hadn’t had the same slippery shower room fumblings most Navy men had at some point, but that hadn’t _meant_ anything; he’d never had feelings for any of those guys, they were just buddies helping each other out. It was closer to their football games to blow off steam, or how physical they were with each other during training sessions. Simple, rough, practical contact. Not _meaningful_.

His contact with Danny, on the other hand, had always been different. They touched a lot. Always had, and yes, it started as punches, and twisted arms, but that had just been egos and anger and boundaries. And maybe the arm-slung-around-you had started with a thread underlying it that was more than a little passive aggressive. Arms slung, pulling in, pulling tight (a little _too_ tight).... It was controlling. It was asserting dominance. Both too strong-willed for the other, both too angry, too filled with the kind of hurt that can’t express itself as hurt, so it bursts forth as anger and frustration and irritation and ire and yelling and griping and arguing about every goddamn thing under the fucking sun. But at some point, Steve had worked out that physical contact from him _grounded_ Danny in a way that made Steve feel less like he was going to erupt at his partner’s infuriating... infuriatingness. And so the contact had gradually softened. They’d snagged on the places they rubbed, and those places began to wear smooth—found grooves and slotted together—until the rough bits began to fit seamlessly. They _broke each other in_ , in other words. And maybe that meant more than he’d realized.

The first time Steve felt sharply aware of his feelings for Danny was during the sarin case. He knew, on some level, that his reaction to Danny’s exposure was _not_ _okay_. It freaked him out, and for one terrible moment he thought he would actually die, right there with Danny. But the fear had been so jagged, so rough, so overwhelming, that it drowned out all his other feelings, like the way his heart swooped and swelled, the way his concern for Danny’s safety filled every cell of his body. Besides. He needed to keep the team going, needed to solve the crisis. Needed to keep _the whole island_ safe. In other words, he needed to do his job. Do what he was trained to do, what he was born to do. So, that helped too. And he’d managed. Of course he had. He was very skilled at his work.

And, then. _Then_. Rachel had been there. Not just at Danny’s side, but in his fucking bed, and Steve had nearly blacked out. It felt like he’d been hit in the head—and maybe that blunt pain, the shock of it, on top of the flood of fear and relief, maybe that all made it easier to shove his feelings away, lock them deep within his chest. And he thought he _had_. Thought they’d passed, faded maybe. Or that maybe he’d been wrong, that it hadn’t been love, that it was just some kind of crazy but temporary fear of loss, some momentary insanity. Eventually things had gone back to normal. Or so he’d thought.

Then when Danny told him he was moving back to Jersey, Steve felt like his heart was being pulled out of his chest. But there was too much else going on, and he was in real danger, and he had to focus on staying aware, staying present, solving the goddamn case. He was in full-on Ninja SEAL mode, as Danny called it. And that helped. Sort of.

Of course he was relieved when they proved he was right about the Governor and Wo Fat. But not half as relieved as he was when Danny told him he was staying. It was almost too easy to simply be glad to have Danny still with him as his partner, and not think too hard about what he’d felt when he’d thought he was going to lose him.

After that, Steve became very adept at rationalizing his feelings to himself. Skilled at justifying the way he felt, intellectualizing it. Quite simply he’d never had a _partner_ before. Always a team, but never _one_ partner with whom he was as close as Danny. That, he figured, explained it. Explained all of it. He was emotional, he got attached, he got possessive... all of those things he’d known. Of course Steve was protective of Danny; he was always protective of his team, of his _ohana_. Joe had taught him that, instilled that value into him, along with so much gin, as well as extra training sessions and long hikes, in their spare time.

Joe’d also taught him that as a team leader his feelings would sometimes be problematic, they could get him in trouble, they could get people killed. That sometimes what you felt for men under your command was a love so strong it became difficult to tell where it ended, where the lines really were. Steve had been blinded by those feelings more than once—and that one heartbreaking time, they nearly got him killed. Part of Steve had died on that beach with Nick, and he tried to be more careful with his heart after that. Not that it had mattered. It’s one thing to tell yourself you’re going to be careful with your heart, another to actually be able to do something about it. Because the thing is, your heart simply never listens.

The problem in the case of Danny, it seemed to Steve, was that he’d found his way, somehow, so deeply within Steve’s heart, Steve hadn’t noticed how deep he’d gotten until it was too late. That incredible closeness, that intimacy, was new to Steve. It was something he’d never had with his teammates before, hadn’t even had it with his family, really. They’d been close once, yes. But it was a different kind of close. An acknowledgement of shared history. Comfort and ease and certain expectations. And his closeness with his SEAL team, as with the rest of his Five-0 team, had been what he thought of as _ohana_. More than his blood family because it was by choice.

But what he and Danny had—and had had from the very beginning—was different. And it took Steve a long time to truly understand it. But for years things just continued to loop back around in some kind of tortuous cycle. Steve would have a flash of intense awareness that his feelings for Danny were not what they should be, sparked by some stressful event that kept him from being able to dwell on it for long, followed by Steve justifying those feelings as understandable given the circumstances, and then a return to regular life... only to have the cycle repeat.

The plane crash, for some reason, disrupted that loop. Danny saving his life, enacting revenge, giving him half his liver—saving his life again. Those things had been a delirious blur for him, then when they weren’t, he’d been able to focus on the pain. But something had shifted after that; things hadn’t quite gone back to normal, and he’d been an awkward and uncomfortable jackass for pretty much a year because of it. If he looked back on it, he might realize why he was such a jerk for that year, and it wasn’t just the whole liver, processing of emotions, thing. Somehow, having part of Danny inside of him kept him from being able to completely dismiss his feelings for his partner as what they ought to be, what you’d expect them to be. That dependable cycle of his feelings for Danny didn’t reset, it stayed hovering somewhere awkwardly in the middle, never slotting back into something comfortable. Steve had begun an inevitable drifting closer and closer to the edge, to the place where it would finally break.

It was the damn staycation that really fractured it, he thought. That had really done him in. Being literally a wall’s depth apart from Danny and Melissa had made the reality of his situation impossible to ignore. They’d always been careful to keep their relationships with women separate from each other. And maybe that should have told him something. The result, unfortunately, was that Steve had zero experience spending time with relationship Danny, with Danny-with-a-girlfriend. And he was frustrated to find he couldn’t stand it. Kept imagining things. Thinking he could _hear_ them. Couldn’t get settled, couldn’t get it out of his head. And maybe, maybe he hadn’t been able to stand the idea that Danny might hear _him_. It had been brutally unexpected, and it had been completely inescapable, and it had affected him in a way he’d never experienced before.

Lynn had been wonderful that weekend. And so understanding. “It happens to all guys.” Five fucking words you never want to hear. Not when your girlfriend’s rented a ludicrously expensive hotel room and purchased lingerie the likes of which Steve hadn’t known existed. Not when she’s been growing impatient with you for your lack of commitment, not when you’ve promised (again) to give more, to be more, to try more.

But maybe you shouldn’t have to _try_ so hard.

It happens to all guys, but it’d never happened to _him_ before. And he didn’t want to think about why it _had_. But he knew. And he knew that he knew.

After that, he started to be more aware of his feelings. Not his strong suit, he’d admit that. But it wasn’t something he had a choice in any longer. There was no ignoring it, no dismissing it. He wasn’t sure what his feelings _meant_ , but he knew this much: they were not the feelings a cop had for his partner, not the feelings a guy had for his best friend. But he didn’t think there was anything he could do about it, so he tried, he really tried, to just get on with things as best he could. Make the most of what they did have, what they could have. What they _should_ have.

And then, Steve got sick.

_That goddamn fucking bomb_.

There’s really nothing like confronting your mortality to make you face things about yourself you don’t want to admit. It felt different, once he had that diagnosis in his hands. Everything felt different, in one flick of a switch. Like a great crashing down of feelings tucked away, like his whole framework of suppression just failed all at once. He did think—for one awful, embarrassing, horrifying moment—he actually wondered if maybe it was somehow an effect of the radiation. He’d even managed, he didn’t want to remember how, but he’d actually managed to ask one of the many doctors. He worded it slightly more obliquely than “radiation poisoning can’t make me gay, can it?” But the doctor had assured him that sexual preference had absolutely nothing to do with radiation exposure—or any other kind of exposure, for that matter. He managed not to insinuate that Steve was an ass for even thinking it.

Steve felt like an ass.

And he felt utterly, completely, devastatingly unsure about absolutely everything in his life. For about two days. And then he’d wound up sitting on the beach with Danny, drinking beers, and relaxing after a swim, steaks sizzling on the grill, sand still warm in the setting sun. And he’d known.

It was like a tsunami and it was like the softest raindrop at the same time. Because it was everything and it was huge and it was overwhelming and it threatened to drown him, to sweep him away, to crush the life out of him, squeeze the air from his lungs. And it was nothing, because it was just exactly what he’d felt about Danny from the first second he’d laid eyes on him, it was what he’d felt every single day since then. In that one moment, everything changed because he knew that nothing had changed and nothing ever would.

He was certain the weight of it would kill him.

He managed to get through the rest of the evening without letting anything on, and Danny seemed his usual self, and left saying he was going to be with Melissa the next day, so could they surf Sunday instead, and somehow Steve managed to say _yeah sure of course no problem_ while his heart, he was pretty sure, shattered within his chest.

That night, Steve tossed and turned, fitful and nearly feverish, and he almost, almost took the sleeping pills he had in his drawer for emergencies. But he _wanted_ to suffer. Wanted to feel all the feelings because he still didn’t understand them. And he thought that if he _let_ them hurt maybe he could find a way of understanding them. And he needed—so badly _needed_ —to understand. He needed for it all to make sense. Because he’d never even had a crush on a guy before. He’d never looked at guys asses, never admired their chests. Not in _that_ way. And it wasn’t like he’d been missing opportunities. Never short on hard, muscular bodies—works of art, some of them—to admire. His whole life, he’d been inundated with ideal masculine specimens, so if this was something that was part of him, wouldn’t he have noticed before now? How could he be past 40 and just now questioning his sexuality? He was pretty sure that wasn’t something people did. Unless it was some kind of mid-life crisis thing. But wasn’t that supposed to be about fancy cars and younger women and exotic vacations and fast boats and apartments in the city? It wasn’t supposed to be about being utterly, devastatingly, completely in love with your partner.

Was it?

Besides. It was love. Maybe it was somehow still just love. He wasn’t sexually attracted to Danny. _That_ , he was pretty sure, he would have noticed.

Yeah, except.

Well, shit. Danny’s a damn fine looking guy, alright? But any breathing human being would be aware of that. Noticing the guy you work with, the guy you surf with, the guy you spend just about all your free time with... noticing that guy is fucking sexy, well, that’s just. Being observant.

Thing is....

Well, the thing is. Maybe there’s a bit more to it than that. Because, Harry Langford’s a damn fine looking man. And he’s not just saying that because of the whole James Bond, British accent thing. He really is very pleasing to look at. But Steve’d never felt so much as a... what? Twinge? Flush? Spark? And yes, he realizes that implies he’s felt those things for Danny. He doesn’t really seem to be sure about that, though. He is positive that it’s very different from what he feels for Harry. But beyond that... it just feels like a mess.

So, this is where Steve finds himself now. Trying to categorize how he feels about Danny. Physically. How he reacts to him. With his body, he means. He can’t believe this is something he spends his time doing now. He’s just... he’s _this_ close to freaking the heck out, and before he goes there he just needs to be sure.

He’s pretty sure he’s already sure. _Fuck_.

It’s Friday night. They’ve just wrapped up a case. The rest of the team’s gone home. It’s just them, in Steve’s office, hitting send on the last of the paperwork. Steve stands, turns off his computer.

“Hey babe,” Danny’s grinning, that relaxed, We Just Saved the World Again and You Didn’t Get Hurt, let-me-buy-you-a-beer grin. He wraps his arm around Steve and tugs him close. “Wanna get pizza and watch a movie?”

He’s been paying attention, when Danny touches him, to how he feels. How his body responds, how his heart responds, how his mind responds.... That’s a lot of paying attention, for Steve, so, the fact that he doesn’t respond quickly enough to Danny can probably be overlooked. Only, Danny doesn’t know all that. So he gets a little worried. Danny does that easily, of course, with Steve. Always. But especially lately.

“Babe?”

Steve shakes himself. “Yeah.”

“You okay, babe?”And he’s leaning in, closer... closer... trying to get a look in Steve’s eyes—where Steve really doesn’t want Danny prying at the moment, thank you.

“Yeah, Danny, that sounds great.”

Danny doesn’t really look convinced. But he agrees, and offers to go get pizza on the way over, and Steve can pick a movie off the DVR—Bond, most likely, as they’ve been binging on 007 since Harry had reappeared in their lives... it just kind of _happened_. But now you mention it... was it Steve’s imagination, or did Danny have a bit of a thing for Harry? _Don’t be absurd, McGarrett_ , he tells himself, as he decides he’d better swim first.

He loses track of time. Which isn’t like him. By the time he gets out of the water, Danny’s sitting there, in his chair... the one Steve has thought of as his since the very beginning. He’s utterly at home, Steve thinks. As much as Danny still sometimes softly protests that he hates sand, hates the beach, hates the very concept of Hawaii, he is ridiculously at home here. Steve loves it more than he’d willingly admit.

Danny’s got a beer for himself, one for Steve. Just like they’ve done probably a hundred times. There shouldn’t be anything new in it, nothing to throw Steve off balance. So why’s he feel light headed, like a spark of electricity passes through him when Danny hands him his beer, like he’s going to have to sit fast before he falls over, like he wants to fall into Danny, like he wants to _kiss_ Danny? And it should be a totally new feeling, but somehow it feels way too familiar, like he’s felt it before, and just not noticed. He’s painfully aware of it now, and totally unsure how he’s going to resist.

He must show something of all that on his face, because Danny actually stands to steady him. “Whoa there, babe, you alright?”

Steve nods, as Danny guides him to his seat, he thuds ungracefully down, and takes a big long swig of beer before he attempts to speak. “Yeah, I think so. Think I was out there for too long. You got food?”

Danny narrows his eyes at him, clearly still concerned, but his concern’s going to take the shape of feeding Steve. Something Steve has to admit has been happening probably a little too frequently lately. And Steve doesn’t want to look too closely at that... at either his willingness to let Danny feed him, or Danny’s willingness to take on that role. Neither feels like it leads somewhere strictly _friendly_.

Danny, meanwhile, has been saying things to Steve about food, but he’s noticed Steve’s not really paying attention, so he tosses Steve his towel and heads up to the lanai. Steve’s gotten the impression he’s to stay put, so he does, and soon Danny’s back with two boxes of pizza. He places one on Steve’s lap, and keeps the other for himself, placing it carefully on the sand. Leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees, Danny looks like he’s about to cross examine Steve, who decides that hiding behind his pineapple and ham is the best option available to him. So he does.

It doesn’t fool Danny for a second.

He waits him out. Waits until he’s got two whole slices in him, which doesn’t take long.

“Better?” Danny asks, softly, true concern flooding his tone.

Steve nods.

“Good.” He sits back, and Steve thinks that maybe he’s off the hook, but while Danny picks his pizza box up off the sand, he keeps his eyes focused on Steve. “So, what was that about, babe?” He asks, as he takes a bite of pepperoni.

Steve wants to deflect. He wants more time. He wants, he thinks, endless time. He’s not sure he can last that long. But he really, really doesn’t know what else to do. And Danny, he can tell, is not going to let him get away with it this time. For whatever reason, Danny’s on to him, somehow. Not that Steve thinks Danny _knows_... but he’s aware that something’s not right. Steve should have known that would happen, with how closely Danny’s been watching him lately.

He sighs. Sets his pizza down, picks up his beer, and tries to get comfortable. Fails. Sighs again.

“Babe, just out with it, already.”

He laughs at that, just a tiny, bitter, forced _huff_.

Danny looks torn, suddenly, between holding back and giving Steve space, and putting his pizza down and... what? Pulling him into a hug? Why does Steve think that? Is it something in Danny’s look? His posture? How does he even know that? Ugh. This is impossible. But somehow that makes what he needs to do, what he wants to do... possible. So he tries.

“I’ve been having... some...” _New? Different? Weird?_ “...Unusual feelings lately.”

Danny looks like he’s processing that. “Okay....”

“And I don’t know what to do about them.”

“Have you asked the doctors?”

Steve starts to take a breath to reply, kind of deflates, lets the breath out slowly. “Not those kinds of feelings.”

Danny’s head tilts, his eyes narrow. “Alright....”

“Emotional feelings,” he clarifies.

“Yeah, I got that.”

“About you.” He can’t believe he’s said it. Can’t believe he got it out, can’t believe he didn’t die on the spot having said it.

Danny’s chewing his lip. His head is still tilted, his eyes still narrowed. He’s waiting for more....

Steve closes his eyes. Takes another deep breath. Somehow, amazingly, it feels bracing. It feels empowering. “I think that I’ve fallen in love with you.”

“Think?” 

And how can that be his response? How can, with all of... _arugh_.

“ _Know_.”

He opens his eyes, looks at Danny for his reaction. Can’t fucking tell at all.

“And, when did this happen?” He sounds like he’s interviewing a suspect for godsake.

Steve smiles. Doesn’t mean to, it just kind of happens. “A while ago.”

Danny’s eyebrows go up. “ _How_ long ago?”

“Does it matter?”

“Well, yeah, you idiot. I think that’d be nice to know.”

“Since I got sick, I guess.” He’s not, simply _not_ going to outline the entire thing for Danny. Vague will have to do, it just will.

Danny considers the information. “And... it’s not just... somehow _because_ of that?”

Steve fairly growls in response.

“I just mean, babe, that has been a lot to process, and it’s been very emotional, and I’ve been looking out for you since you suck at it yourself, and, well, sometimes people confuse gratitude for love.”

Steve thinks Danny’s got some kind of experience there he’s not shared. But that’s beside the point.

“No, Danny, it’s not.” He rubs his face in his hands. “I knew before. It just... was easy to ignore it.”

“ _Easy_?”

Now Steve must be imagining things, because he’s pretty sure Danny sounded hurt by that.

He sighs. “Okay, not easy. But—” He growls again and sits forward. “ _Shit_ , Daniel, give me a fucking break here, would you?”

Danny’s eyebrows go up again. “Easy there babe, I’m just trying to work it all out.”

“Yeah. So’ve I been. For years.”

And _that_ was his mistake. Dammit.

“ _Years_....”

Steve groans and sinks back in his chair. “Shit.”

“I should think so. Just how many years, babe?”

And Steve’s evidently found his limit. And this is what Danny always does to him. Fuck. He just... goes off. “Since the goddammfucking beginning, alright? Jesus, Danny. From the fucking beginning, but I didn’t know what to do with it alright, because I’m not gay. _Shit_.”

Danny’s blinking at him. Fucking blinking. He has no idea what that means.

“And _now_?”

“I don’t know, alright? I do _not_ fucking know. I just know that I can’t _do_ this anymore. I want to be with you, I want to _kiss_ you, I want to... _arrrgh_. I just. _Want you_.” He chokes on a sigh that’s closer to a sob. “I _need_ you.”

“But you’re not gay.” It’s soft, and it’s not a question, but there’s hesitancy there.

“Not as far as I’m aware. Believe me, I’ve been trying to work that one out.”

A smile. Soft, and warm. “Does it matter?” Danny’s calm is balancing out Steve’s impatience, and _there’s_ something new for them, Steve thinks.

“Well, _fuck_ , I should think so. If I’m in love with a guy.”

 “Are you in love with me _because_ I’m a guy?”

“Jesus, Danny, what the fuck is _that_ supposed to mean? Of course fucking not. I’m in love with _you_.”

“So, I don’t really see why it matters. You love me because I’m a fabulous human being, and who could blame you, really, and it’s about time you saw fucking sense for once, anyway.”

“Exactly—wait, what?”

A ragged breath, the creeping edge of frustration, but still that warm smile. “Steven. Do you love me?”

He’s known the answer, knows he has, but having Danny ask, well it just makes it so stunningly clear, he feels like he’s falling off a precipice he’s been balanced on for eight years, and the relief is all-encompassing.

“Yeah. So fucking much. More than I’ve ever loved anyone. Oh, god. So much.”

“Do you want to kiss me?” As though it were that simple, the next logical step.

He nods, as no words will form.

“And...?” Danny gestures, as if somehow to indicate _other stuff_.

On an exhalation: “Yeah.” _God yeah, please_.

“And, guessing here... have you... before?”

“Some of it.”

Danny’s lips quirk adorably. “And you want that with me?” His cool, logical approach to all of this is driving Steve mad. It’s certainly not how he envisioned this going....

“Jesus, Danny, is this the fucking inquisition? Yes, all of it, yes, I want it all. With you.”

“A ring?” Amused, slightly teasing, pushing....

And Steve’s not prepared for that. Not at all. He sucks in a harsh breath, feels like he’s been hit in the gut. _Hard_. “Fuck. Probably. Yeah.... Probably. Definitely. _Shit_. Yes.”

Danny sits back, as though he’s been pushed. “I’m bi, you know. Thanks for asking.”

“I don’t... _fuck_. Danny.”

“Let’s try the kissing first, alright? Start you off slowly, babe.”

He just stares. Danny’s making jokes. Steve thinks he’s going to pass out, it’s like he can’t even see clearly, everything is swirling around him. And Danny’s making jokes.

The warm smile is back, only it’s grown more heated. “You want me to come over there?”

Steve can’t speak, just tries to look as pleadingly at Danny as he can. From the grin that spreads across Danny’s face, he succeeds. Slowly, Danny stands, walks over to Steve’s chair. Spreads Steve’s legs with his knee. Squats down between them, and reaches up, putting his hand behind Steve’s neck, pulling him down, slowly, too slowly, pressing his lips against Steve’s, licking them softly. Steve feels the groan more than hears it. He’s trembling, his whole body feels like it’s going to shatter—it’s like the worst case of the bends he ever had, or too much adrenaline too fast, or the shock of a huge explosion too close by. And that’s before they even kiss. The kiss itself, _god_. It’s like life. It’s like the ocean, sunlight, _air_. It’s everything.

“Well?” Danny asks, from a few inches in front of Steve’s lips.

He nods. “Yeah, that was... that was amazing.”

“You want more?”

He nods again.

Danny kisses him again, a little more forcefully, and Steve finds his sea legs a bit more, kissing back, he hopes unawkwardly.

When Danny pulls back this time, Steve’s pretty sure _he’s_ flushed. He certainly looks moved. “Yeah. That was....” He sounds _awed_. Steve’s never heard Danny sound like that. He needs to hear it again. And again. And again.

“Can we...?” Steve gestures, somewhat wildly around them, hoping it conveys _do more_.

Danny smiles softly. Stands, slightly unsteadily. “I think you should eat some more first, babe. Don’t want you passing out on me.”

Steve chuckles softly. “Always looking out for me, huh, Danny?”

“Someone has to,” he mutters in response, as he gathers the pizza boxes, pulls Steve to his feet, hands him the beers and his towel, and heads up to the house.

Steve halts, on the lanai. Not really sure why, he’s just not ready to go inside yet. Danny notices, sets the pizzas down, and pulls two chairs up against each other.

“Sit. Eat.”

He does. They both do. They finish their food wordlessly, then Danny goes and gets them waters when they finish their beers. Steve’s mind’s been whirring. When Danny comes back out, he tries to put words to the thoughts.

“You haven’t...” he begins, wanting to ask, needing to know... not knowing how to. He sighs. “You, ah...” He folds his hands together, presses them to his lips, breathes out. “How do you feel about me?” He finally asks, searching Danny’s expression for his reaction.

“Babe. Really? You have to ask that?”

“Yeah, Danny, I do.”

“Do you think that just because you told me you’re in love with me and want to kiss me that I’d kiss you... what...? Just to see if you really liked it?”

Steve feels like an ass again.

“I don’t know, Danny, I feel like I don’t know anything.”

“Okay, first of all, that is not even close to the truth, but second, babe. I wouldn’t, just to be clear. I’m not that kind of guy. I’ve known I have feelings for you, _you complete idiot_ , for... oh, probably since that time you fell off the fucking mountain.” He’s smiling sweetly, so sweetly, and it’s a little bit sad, but mostly it’s that soft, warm, sweet look Danny’s been giving him lately. And he needs, he thinks, he needs to know, has to know.

“Danny... have you... _known_?”

Danny’s eyebrows go up again. It’s a look Steve loves on him. But there aren’t many looks Steve doesn’t love on Danny.

“How _you_ felt, you mean?” He smiles a little smugly. “I’ll admit, I’ve been wondering.”

Steve finds it hard to swallow. “Since when?”

He sighs, he’s thinking about it. “I’m not really sure. It’s been a slow kind of dawning awareness, I think, more than anything. But lately. You’ve been letting me.... You haven’t been _fighting_ me as much, when I try and look after you. I think that’s when I started thinking maybe....” He trails off, looking so so fondly at Steve, his heart really just can’t take it.

“So, what do we do?” Steve asks, when the silence has become too full.

“We figure it out. See where it takes us.”

“You’re willing to...?” That gesture again, the one that means _all of it_.

“Yeah, babe. I am. For you, anything.” A heavy breath, caught. “ _Everything_.”

“Even a ring?” As he’s saying it, he can’t believe the words come out of his mouth. He’d not so much as thought of it until Danny had mentioned it, but it’s kind of hard to stop thinking about it now it’s been said.

Danny lets out a small breath. “Even that, babe, if that’s what you decide you want. But let’s start easy. Okay? How about we take this inside and see what happens.”

Steve likes the sound of that. Very much. “Yes, please.” He sounds eager, he knows he does. He really doesn’t mind.

“Oh, wow, a _please_ , huh? I might like this even more than I’ve imagined.”

And that—that Danny’s imagined it—makes Steve’s whole body shiver.

He has no real idea what he’s getting himself into, he knows that. But it’s _Danny_. And really, that’s all that matters. That’s everything that matters.

**Author's Note:**

> Now with part two: [“Easy If You Let It”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14999489).


End file.
